Page 25 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

N ida refused my offer to train her. She said she’s perfectly fine without me nagging her daily. But that won’t do. If we want to communicate better, I have to train her. No matter how annoying that sounds.

My eyes burn like they’re filled with grit, and no amount of rubbing can erase the weight of two sleepless nights.

The cafeteria’s quieter today. Fewer people.

But the whispers of the Redsnout still circle.

Though nobody seems to mention it being female.

No confused looks on their faces, no trembling hands, no doubt.

Everyone is buried in their duties—strength training, anatomy class, or recording the dead.

If you’re not cleaning up the mess the Redsnout left us, that is.

I push my food around with a fork—not hungry today. Nida sits beside me, her shoulder lightly brushing mine—like she’s trying to hide. She’s still pissed at me but she needs to learn to let go, and fast.

The rest of the unit sits in front, babbling about something I can’t make out. It’s as if I hear their voices, but don’t register the words. My mind drifts, trying to make sense of it all, grasping for something I missed or forgot.

I strain to recall what happened, brow furrowed—then a bolt of pain pierces my skull. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing a palm to my forehead as distant words fill my head.

The Redsnout is female.

The same words Nida said. But it’s not her voice.

A light touch on my shoulder pulls me back—I’m still in public, still surrounded.

“Are you alright?” Nida whispers, her palm placed on my shoulder.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” she says, her hand sliding down to grab mine. “You’re burning up.”

“I said I’m fine.”

She inhales sharply, her eyes still glued to me, observing me like I’m a puzzle that needs to be solved.

I drop my gaze, turning back to my food—until the clatter of her fork draws my attention again.

I glance at her, then her hand. Bruises mark her knuckles.

I grab her hand and lift it before she can pull away.

“What’s this?” My voice is lower than I expected. My jaw stings from the tension of grinding my teeth.

“It’s nothing.” She tenses, gently curving her fingers over my hand.

I tilt my head, brushing my thumb lightly over the bruised skin. She flinches, but doesn’t draw back. “Nothing doesn’t leave bruises.”

She shifts her weight, as if debating whether to pull her hand free, but I squeeze hers tighter. I raise my brow, waiting for her to respond. She rolls her eyes, her shoulders dropping.

“I hit something,” she says with a sigh.

That answer doesn’t give me closure. Closure that I apparently need. My grip tightens. “Try again.”

This matters to me.

She lets out another sigh. “Punching bags.” Her eyes drop. “In the training grounds. There are punching bags.” She grinds her teeth. “It helps.”

“With what exactly?” I ease my grip, and her hand slides under the table, resting on her knee.

“What’s it to you?”

“A lot knowing that my Tracker has bruises on her knuckles.” I rest my head on my hand, leaning on the table

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” Her voice is sharp, a near hiss behind it.

I watch her for a minute. Her gaze doesn’t falter. That’s how I know she means it. “Alright,” I say, picking up my fork again. I know I won’t let this go easily. “Does it actually help?”

For a moment, she doesn’t answer, weighing whether to lie or tell the truth. Then, she nods.

“Sometimes. Not as much as I want it to.” She looks up again, her eyes are like fading embers.

“So what, you punch the bag harder when it doesn’t work?” I scoff, trying to lighten up the mood. She smiles.

“No,” she says. “I just keep going until it no longer hurts.”

I don’t say anything, but I hate to see her in pain.

I catch a glimpse of Alex, pacing around trying to find a place to sit.

Every time he approaches a table, the cadets either raise their legs on the bench or purposely spill water on it.

He clicks his tongue, the corner of his mouth turning into a sneer.

He catches my eye, stopping in his tracks, eyes narrowing.

He steps back, his sneer fading into a grimace that twists with cruel, predatory malice, unmistakably aimed at me.

My body tenses, every muscle coiling as a sense of danger floods my senses.

Whatever he’s thinking, it can’t be good.

He strides toward me, breaking our gaze, and casually takes a seat on the bench beside us.

He doesn’t turn to look at me, as if he’s pretending I’m not here.

Instead, his eyes sweep across the mess hall.

I try to focus on my meal before a gentle scoff comes from him.

“I wonder what gender it is,” he mutters, low but sharp enough to make its mark. The words send an icy shiver down my spine. My jaw tightens, and with slow, deliberate force, I turn my head toward him.

I expect a flicker of confusion, some sign that he hasn’t spoken to me. That I’m just going insane—a voice in my head. But his eyes glimmer with something dark, something I never wanted to see in someone like him— confidence .

Without thinking, I rise from the bench. Two strides, and I’m towering over him. My heart pounds. I’m unsure if it’s fueled by anger or the deep-seated fear of what comes next. Did I hear him right?

“What did you say?” My voice is calm, a mask over the fury clenching my jaw, though my teeth grind with enough force to remind me of the lie. For now, I am still in control.

He looks up at me—unbothered—still wearing a grin I desperately want to wipe off his face. Another scoff slips from his lips, his smirk widening as he leans in a fraction closer.

“I think you heard what I said.” His voice drips with taunting certainty, his posture relaxed, as if the power in this moment belongs to him alone.

Without thinking, my hand slashes through the air, fingers curling around his collar, and I lift him like a feather. A tray of food goes flying. Gasps echo from behind me, chairs scrape against the floor, voices call out my name. Shadows circle around me and Alex. I pull him closer.

“What did you say?” I seethe, gripping tighter, silently hoping he will choke out the words once more. But I try to remain calm. Steady. Breathing through my nose. Yet I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry before.

A twisted sneer appears on his face as he gasps for air, letting out small chuckles of amusement.

This brat.

I pull him up just a bit higher, threatening to end his life with a glare. If anyone asks, I’ll just say he insulted a commander. Probably the only time I’d use this privilege.

Nida exclaims, grabbing my shoulders and trying to force me to let him go. Eryca’s eyes narrow, her lips pressed into a thin line as she brushes at the food now smeared on her leather jacket. I stare at Alex, a glimmer in his eyes telling me he isn’t backing down.

“What do you know?” I seethe again, inches from him. I’ll rip this throat out with my teeth if I have to. He chokes, grabbing my arms to loosen up the grip.

“Everything.” A faint grin appears on his face moments later.

Shit.

I release the pressure from his throat and I take a few steps back as he fumbles against the table. He gets up and brushes the crumbs off his jacket, then runs his hands over his messy black curls.

Do I kill him? Maybe not now. Later? An accident?

I watch his every move, ready to strike. If he so much as flinches the wrong way, I’ll drive the dagger at my waist straight into his throat.

“If you do anything like that again,” he whispers, adjusting his leather jacket. “I’ll sing .” The crooked smile never leaves his face, mocking me.

“Nobody’s going to believe you,” I snap, my fingers curling into a fist, nails digging deep into my palms. He flashes his teeth with another large grin.

“Want to test that theory?”

I’m about to fucking swing at him. Maybe I’d knock some teeth out, but a quick pull by the arms eases me.

I whirl around and there they are—eyes glimmering like molten gold, red and amber hues flickering like the fire itself.

She shakes her head with questions hanging off of her lips, but there is no time for words.

Not between us anyway. Not here. I glance back at Alex.

“What do you want?” I ask quickly, ignoring the gathering crowd around us. His grin grows bigger as he licks and sucks off the blood on his lower lip.

“Your unit,” he says with a faint laugh. I shoot him a piercing glare, prompting him to raise his hands in a defensive gesture. “Whoa,” he exclaims, still wearing that grin. “I meant to be in it. After all” —he drops his arms— “there should be three Hunters in a unit, not two.”

“Oh so you’re a Hunter now?” I scoff. His attitude won’t work in this unit—arrogant, uncontrollable, and sure to drag everyone down.

But if he truly knows about the Redsnout, then I don’t have a fucking choice.

Maybe if I let him in now, keep him close, I can get out of this mess.

Or at least make sure it doesn’t come back to Nida. If he does anything to her, I’ll—

“Fine,” I say, feeling the bitter taste in my mouth. Nida mutters in disbelief, her hands still wrapped around my shoulder. She knows as much as any of us that if we don’t let him in our unit, we’re all dead, including those who don’t even know it yet.

“What the hell, guys?” Ilian whines, flinging his arms out to the sides with his fingers splayed. “What’s he want?”

I glare at Alex, waiting to see if he’s going to be the first one to open his mouth.

To my surprise, he doesn’t, despite his love for talking.

He remains calm, but his eyes dance with excitement, knowing perfectly well he has the advantage over me.

I’ll remember him for this. His eyes stray, quickly jerking his chin in Ilian’s direction before looking at me again with a growing, twisted smile.

“He’s in our unit,” I say.